


The Distance

by menel



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types, new x-men - Fandom
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Developing Relationship, Escape, Infidelity, Kidnapping, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mission Related, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: The X-Men go to investigate a mutant organ smuggling operation in Hong Kong. With Scott still mired in the effects of Apocalypse’s possession, Logan decides that it’s time to remind their Fearless Leader that he’s not alone.Written for the 5-word Scogan Prompt Challenge using the words: dice, champagne, cellar, bet, and help.





	The Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of sorts of Grant Morrison’s “The Man from Room X,” the New X-Men Annual (2001). The opening dialogue between Wolverine and Domino is taken verbatim from the comic.

“Allow me to offer an opinion,” Domino said as she secured the harness around her body in preparation for her leap. “Scott Summers has a king-size bug all the way up to his duodenum.” 

Logan smoothed down the tuxedo that he wasn’t all that keen on wearing. “You’re way off-base darlin’,” he drawled in reply. “He just got back from being ‘taken over’ by one of them forces of evil we come face to face with every now and again.” 

He watched as Domino got into position and then took out a pair of binoculars to scan the street below. The Chinese army official that the X-Men were tracking, Ao Jun arrived right on schedule with a phalanx of strange-looking bodyguards. (Were they all naked old men?)

“There’s nothing funny about being taken over,” Logan continued casually, his eyes never leaving their target. “Right now Scott’s clinging to sanity with his teeth gritted so hard the beams are shooting out his ass. He’s clenched so tight when he farts only dogs can hear it.” 

That comment got a reaction out of his partner and Domino flashed him a wry grin. 

“But you can trust that king-size bug with your life,” Logan finished off. He put away the binoculars and slashed open the steel doors of the elevator shaft for Domino. “So, you need some company after this gig?” 

“Can’t hide from the man with the hyper senses, huh?” Domino returned, dropping a length of black rope down the shaft. “No-strings animal passion, Logan,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “And you’re paying for the drinks.” 

Logan’s grin was a little feral when he looked at her. “The Professor hands out platinum credit cards to his teaching staff,” he said. 

Domino put a finger to her lips to silence him. “First things first, honey,” she whispered. “Ninja business.” And then she dived headfirst into the elevator shaft.

* * *

The X-Men got what they came for but not without difficulty. Logan had to fight his way through a small army of Ao Jun golems. It turned out that Ao Jun’s mutant ability was to make short-lived (naked!) golems from any bit of skin that he shed from his body – dandruff, skin flakes, hair. And Ao Jun was old, and very flaky. It might have qualified as the worst mutant ability ever.

The rest of the team hadn’t had it much better. Below the swanky gathering that Wolverine and Domino had infiltrated creating a much-needed distraction, Cyclops, Beast, and the surprising Emma Frost had broken into a converted processing station some thirty feet underground. Mutant organs were being harvested on site underneath John Sublime’s pharmaceutical company, and Beast had nearly wretched at the sight of such terrible suffering and the lingering stench of death. The young Chinese girl that they’d rescued died on the operating table at the X-Men headquarters later than night. Sublime’s U-Men had brutally removed her wings and she’d lost too much blood to recover. 

The team had discovered that John Sublime’s pharmaceutical company was a front for an illegal operation to turn humans into mutants according to the philosophy Sublime espoused in his controversial book, _The Third Species_. They’d also learned that Ao Jun had sold one thousand acres in the Ningxia Hui province in China to John Sublime, most likely as a site for harvesting mutant organs on the mainland. Of course, the X-Men couldn’t prove any of this, but one of their goals that night had been to steal something from Sublime that could be telepathically scanned. That’s why Emma was holding an old, rusted key that looked like it opened the gate to a prison cell. That same key was also how the X-Men found out about Xorn, a mutant who had been captured as a child in the fields of Ningxia Hui; a child so powerful and so dangerous that an iron prison had been built around him, and there Xorn had languished, isolated and in misery for the rest of his life. The X-Men knew what to expect when they went to Ningxia Hui the following morning.

* * *

“It’s a little greedy, isn’t it?”

Logan turned his head at the sound of the familiar cultured voice. “What is?” he asked the White Queen. 

“Having drinks with Neena and then coming back here to see Scott.” 

Logan leaned against the railing of the high-rise balcony, a cigar in one hand as he gave Emma an appraising look. “That an educated guess?” he asked her. “Or were you reading my mind?” 

Emma was wearing a black silk negligee, her blond hair falling in gentle waves across her shoulders. It was chilly on the balcony but she didn’t seem to feel the cold. 

“I don’t need to read your mind to divine your intentions,” Emma replied. 

Logan gestured with his cigar towards the bottle of champagne and the two fluted glasses that Emma was carrying. “The same could be said for you,” he told her. “That’s not very subtle.” 

Emma smiled a predatory smile as she surveyed the Hong Kong vista. “Perhaps not,” she conceded. “But it’s perfectly within character.” She looked back at Wolverine, mirroring his posture as she leaned against the balcony railing. “Not that you have any right to talk about ‘subtlety,’” she added. 

Logan’s smile had also grown predatory. “So, what is this Em?” he inquired in between puffs of smoke. “A pissing competition? Winner gets Scott for the night?”

“Somehow I don’t think Scott would appreciate being fought over like a piece of meat,” Emma commented. “Even though he’s a worthy prize.” 

Logan shrugged. “Who’s fighting?” he said. “I already won.” 

Emma laughed. “How presumptuous of you,” she said, sounding positively delighted. 

“Presumption nothing,” Logan growled back. “I appreciate you coming with us to Hong Kong,” he added. “But the last thing Scott needs right now is you rifling about in his head.” 

“As opposed to you rifling about in his pants?” Emma shot back. 

“Slim’s taken a vow of celibacy, remember?” 

The gleam in Emma’s eye grew. “Think you can break it?”

“That’s not what I’m planning ta do,” Logan replied gruffly. It was only partially true. He wasn’t _planning_ to break Scott’s vow of celibacy, but if it happened . . . 

“Shall we bet on it?” 

Logan looked at her incredulously. “Bet on what exactly?” he clarified. 

“Whether or not one of us can get Scott to break his vow of celibacy,” Emma stated, as though the object of the bet were completely obvious.

Logan barked out a laugh. “You’d never be able ta live it down,” he grinned. “The White Queen losing a bet to the Wolverine over _Cyclops_.” 

“Does that mean you’re accepting?” the White Queen murmured too demurely. 

Logan growled again. Somehow he just _knew_ that Emma had the upper hand. “We ain’t agreed on terms yet,” he said, stalling for time. 

“That’s true,” Emma mused. “What do you want if you win?”

“Ya leave Scott and Jeannie alone,” Logan immediately answered. “They got enough stuff to sort out without ya interfering.” 

“So, they _are_ having problems?” Emma confirmed with a sly smile. 

Logan made a non-committal sound in response. 

Emma didn’t press the issue. “And if I win,” she continued smoothly. “You’ll not only stay out of my way, but you’ll use your influence to help me with Scott.” 

At this, Logan burst out laughing. “My influence?” he repeated in between deep laughs. “What makes you think I have any _influence_?”

Emma stepped closer, her perfume enveloping Logan through his hyper senses. “You and Scott have come a long way,” she said, her voice low. “I remember a time when you would’ve killed him, but now you respect him. Now you _love_ him.” Emma held up a hand before Logan could protest. “Don’t deny it, Logan. Ignorance in this case doesn’t suit you. I wonder,” she mused. “If it was about Scott all along? Of course, your feelings for Jean are real, but you don’t love her the way that you love him.” 

Emma’s blue gaze was piercing, as sharp and as immovable as the diamond form that she could now transform into.

“I would share him with you,” she said, drawing out the words. “Jean’s not big on sharing. She still thinks it’s all about her. For a telepath, she can be remarkably blind. _I’m_ not the one she should be worried about.” 

“Jeannie ain’t got nothin’ to worry about from me,” Logan said, flicking the ash from his cigar over the railing. He glanced at Emma as he stubbed what was left of his cigar on his palm. “And Scott ain’t yours to share,” he stated, drawing their conversation to a close. 

As he turned around, Emma said, “He’s yours tonight, Logan. But I get my shot tomorrow night.”

* * *

Jean’s fire-burnished image was fading from Scott’s mind as their telepathic connection slipped away. He closed his eyes feeling a certain calm come over him. How strange that his relationship with his wife functioned better when he was halfway across the world from her. He supposed that their physical distance was only mirroring their emotional distance. Things between them hadn’t been the same since Apocalypse. He felt Jean’s unhappiness through their bond and he hated that he was the cause of it, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from pulling away from her. It was the only time in his life that he had ever pulled away from her; Jean was the rock of his life, the anchor, the foundation, and the constant comforting presence. It was her devotion and love that made her come after him, even when the others believed him to be lost. Her love had saved him and how was he repaying her?

Scott sighed. The Hong Kong mission was a good change of pace for him. It gave him something to focus on, something to keep his mind off of his wreck of a personal life. Except . . . that Emma Frost had unexpectedly joined them. And Jean had inquired after Emma and . . . 

“Hey, Slim. Get up.”

Scott blinked. His door was open and Wolverine’s bulky frame was outlined in the light that suddenly flooded the room. 

“Logan?” Scott said, immediately sitting up. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s something you gotta see downtown.” 

It was a testament to how much Scott craved action and activity – anything to distract his restless mind – that he got out of bed and began to dress, not once questioning Logan’s motives or asking for more specifics. He didn’t even mind that Logan essentially stood in the room and watched him change (they’d changed plenty of times in front of each other before), before he followed Wolverine out the door.

* * *

The ‘something’ downtown turned out to be a karaoke bar. Scott remained unperturbed as Logan walked them through the dimly lit bar and the sound of disco pop as someone belted out Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” It wasn’t a particularly busy night and Logan led them straight into one of the private rooms on the second floor that overlooked the main stage below. Scott peered through the wide glass window of the room and surveyed the scene beneath them.

“Is there some kind of meeting happening here?” Scott finally asked his companion. When Logan didn’t respond he turned around. “Logan?” he questioned. 

Logan was sitting in the center of the curved leather sofa, his left arm splayed along the sofa’s back as he surfed through the list of songs with the remote control in his right hand. 

“Logan,” Scott repeated, his tone a little sharper this time. 

Finally, Logan glanced in his direction. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said, eyes flicking back to the karaoke song selection. 

Scott outwardly held back his frustration, but he knew that Logan would be able to detect it anyway. “Then what are we doing here?” he asked, in a short clipped tone. 

Logan threw him a challenging look. “Like you were going to be able to sleep,” he drawled. “You’ve got so much pent up energy, yer practically bursting with it.” 

“And I suppose singing karaoke is your idea of getting rid of that energy,” Scott replied dryly. 

Logan noted how Scott didn’t contradict him. He smiled wolfishly. “If we were back home, I’d let you beat me up in the Danger Room, but since we’re not . . .” he trailed off and gestured at the private room. “When in Rome . . .” he added. 

“We’re not in Rome,” Scott grumbled, but he grudgingly took a seat beside the other man.

Logan gave his uptight team leader a sideways smile.

* * *

Three hours later and with a healthy stack of beer bottles scattered on the coffee table in front of them, Summers had finally loosened up. Their private room was also more crowded since Logan had invited two of their waitresses to stay and those waitresses had brought up a few of their friends. Logan could admit that the amount of skimpy clothing and revealing skin was a little on the crass side, especially for Summers’ more conservative tastes but Logan wasn’t about to complain. Despite all the skin around him the only person he really had eyes for (not to mention all his other senses) was his Team Leader.

At the moment, said Team Leader was belting out a heartfelt rendition of Sinatra’s classic “My Way.” Logan hadn’t been surprised to discover that Summers was more into the golden oldies: Sinatra, Dean Martin and the rest of the Brat Pack. ‘Course a few years ago, he would’ve assumed that Summers would be the boy band type – something awful like ‘N Sync or Westlife – and he would’ve tested Summers’ patience with his merciless goading. But Emma was right. He and Scott had come a long way since then. 

Scott wrapped up the song to the sound of cheers and applause from their female audience. 

“You’re next, Mr. Logan!” one of the girls shouted. 

Logan shook his head, waving off the encouraging pleas. “Sorry darlins’,” he drawled. “We’re callin’ it a night.” 

“We are?” Scott said, with a surprised arch of his brow. 

“Ladies, thank you for your company,” Logan continued, ignoring Scott’s question for the moment as he stood up and began ushering the women towards the door. “But this is turning into a _private_ party.” 

Amid the protests and the general pawing to try and get Logan to change his mind, Logan finally managed to get everyone out the door. When he turned around again, Scott was uncustomarily sprawled in the center of the curved sofa. Logan couldn’t recall the last time he had seen Scott so boneless and relaxed. He could tell that Summers had shut his eyes by the way Scott was resting his head against the sofa’s back. Logan silently made his way back to the sofa, sitting so close to the other man that he was bordering on invading Summers’ personal space. 

“Glad you decided to end the night early,” Scott said, not moving an inch. “We can still get a few hours sleep before heading to Ningxia Hui.” 

Logan glanced at his watch. It was past midnight so it wasn’t all that early but he understood the sentiment. But what he said instead was, “Like you’ve been getting any sleep of late.” 

It was a testament to how mellow Scott had become that he didn’t take the bait. He addressed the statement seriously, as though Logan hadn’t been intentionally goading him. “Don’t think that’s going to be a problem tonight,” he said. He looked to the left and gave Logan a lopsided smile. “This was a good idea,” he admitted. “Unexpected and totally unprofessional,” he added. “And we should probably never do it again, but still a good idea.” 

When Scott made a move to get up, Logan put an arm across his chest to stop him. “Hang on,” he said. 

Scott sat back, but not in the same boneless sprawl that he’d been in before. When he looked at Logan again, he was clearly more alert. “Something wrong?” he asked. 

“Sort of,” Logan said, his tone suggesting that he was holding something back. 

“What is it?” Scott said, his attention fully on Logan now.

Logan could actually tell when Scott was about to shift into Cyclops mode and that wasn’t what he wanted either. “Here,” he said, popping open the last bottle of beer and passing it to Scott. 

Scott accepted the beer but didn’t take a drink. Even behind the ruby quartz glasses, Logan could feel the Team Leader’s gaze boring into him. 

“Relax, Slim,” Logan said with some exasperation. “Just wanted to have a chat with you is all.” 

“About?” 

Ah, well. Logan wasn’t too sure what to say to that. Neither of them was the caring nor sharing type. Turns out, Logan needn’t have worried. It was a testament to how focused he was on the other man that he didn’t hear anyone approaching the door to their room. Nor did he hear said door being opened and the tranquilizer gun that appeared, shooting two pellets into his neck. Logan’s vision went sideways as he fell back on the sofa, figures crossing his line of vision before he blacked out.

* * *

“Logan.”

“ _Logan_.” 

“Logan!” 

Logan’s eyes shot open, followed by a long groan. “Cyke,” he muttered, not yet fully aware of his surroundings. 

“Logan,” Cyclops said again in a tone that meant they were in trouble. “I need you to focus.”

Logan tried to do just that. He was sitting down (naked!) in a steel chair, his arms manacled behind him at an awkward angle. The claws came out immediately, but he was being held in such a way that there was nothing to slash at except air. He could tell that the cuffs were special too. Adamantium. Only certain kinds of people would have adamantium manacles. He turned his head in the direction of Scott’s voice. His team leader was beside him on his left (also naked) and tied to a similar chair. Unlike Logan, however, Scott’s hands weren’t manacled behind him, but tied with ropes in his lap. His upper body was bound to the chair with ropes as well. So, their captors were aware of their mutant powers. Definitely not a good sign. They clearly knew about Cyclops’s force beam since Scott’s glasses and visor were nowhere in sight. Instead, Cyclops’s eyes were bound by a black cloth. Both their legs were also bound, their ankles strapped to the sides of the chairs’ legs. Even in their vulnerable position, Logan couldn’t help taking a moment to admire the view. Emma was right. Cyclops’s vow of celibacy was cause for mourning. 

“Logan,” Scott said, turning his head in Logan’s direction, as though he could sense the other man staring. “Give me a layout of the room.” 

Logan tore his eyes away from his team leader and began the survey, saying out loud the things that came into his mind. They were in a narrow cellar, a dangling light bulb in the middle of the room the only source of light. In front of them was the wooden staircase leading out of the cellar. Logan couldn’t see any other exits. There was a narrow window at the far end on Scott’s left, but it was much too small to fit a grown man. Only a child would be able to escape that way. The cellar itself was musty. Behind them were racks of wine bottles that were gathering dust. If this was somebody’s wine cellar, they weren’t taking very good care of it. 

“My visor?” Scott asked. 

“ _Nada_ ,” Logan replied. “No glasses either.”

Scott sighed. 

“How long was I out?” Logan asked him. 

“I’m not sure,” Scott told him. “Haven’t got much sense of time. But you woke up only a couple of minutes after me.” 

“Ya think the team knows we’re missing yet?” 

“Did you tell them about your plans?” 

“Nope.” 

Scott sighed again. “Then no. There’s no reason for them to think we’re missing.” 

“Not unless we don’t turn up for the flight to Ningxia Hui,” Logan pointed out. 

“True,” Scott agreed. “But I think we’re going to be in trouble before that happens.” 

“How right you are, Cyclops,” a voice interrupted them. “You’re in trouble now.” 

Logan looked up to see Ao Jun descending the stairs, accompanied by two of his naked golems. Nakedness was definitely a theme for the evening. 

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Scott said formally in that ineffable calm that Logan admired so much, as though Scott wasn’t naked and in a massive disadvantage compared to their captor. 

“General Ao Jun,” the Chinese official said with only the faintest of accents, coming to a halt in front of Cyclops. “Your companion, Wolverine, crashed our party earlier. That was very rude of him.” 

“My apologies,” Scott said, sounding almost sincere. “Wolverine isn’t known for his manners.” 

“Apology accepted,” Ao Jun said, with false graciousness. “But perhaps you should be apologizing for yourself, Cyclops.” 

“Oh?” Scott replied, feigning surprise. “And why should I do that?” 

Ao Jun laughed, and Logan watched as more golems grew from the flakes of skin that the Chinese official had shed on the floor and the stairs. There were five golems in the cellar now, including the two that had originally come down with Ao Jun. What had Domino said about their life span? Short-lived. But how ‘short’ was short-lived? Logan had cut through dozens of these fuckers at the party. If Ao Jun kept shedding, the cellar was gonna get real cramped, real quick.

“Because the Wolverine and his companion were a distraction,” Ao Jun told Summers. “You were there to _steal_ something, Cyclops.” 

“If we’re going to be technical about it,” Scott said, in that same conversational tone. “The X-Men didn’t steal anything from _you_.” 

“I suppose not,” Ao Jun agreed. “But your actions were still very…rude.” 

Logan watched their exchange warily, as another golem rose up from the floor. Six of those creatures now. 

“Does John Sublime know what you’re doing?” Scott asked, suddenly changing tactics. 

Logan knew Ao Jun was caught off guard by the slow downward curl of the general’s lip. “John Sublime is a despicable man,” Ao Jun said in a rather clipped tone. “But he is good for business. And no,” the general added. “He is not aware of our little…visit.”

“And what is the purpose of this visit?” Scott asked, somehow turning into the interrogator instead of the one being interrogated. (Logan kept his amusement in check.) 

“For a strategist such as yourself that should be rather obvious,” Ao Jun admonished. 

“Enlighten me,” Scott said patiently. 

“We’re here to stop you irritating, meddling X-Men from interfering with our plans, of course,” Ao Jun said with a flourish. “Imagine my surprise when one of my men contacted me – interrupted, really – to say that he’d seen you two enter a karaoke bar. Sheer dumb luck, but sometimes that’s all it takes.” 

Cyclops gave Ao Jun a thin-lipped smile, while Logan inwardly groaned. The karaoke had been his idea, and he hadn’t even been able to execute his plan entirely…yet. This was why he left the strategy to Cyclops. 

“This has been pleasant, Cyclops,” Ao Jun said, drawing their conversation to a close. “But I have a mud wrestling match – of the female variety,” he added with a lascivious grin, “to get back to.” 

Ao Jun turned away, disregarding Logan completely, and gestured dismissively to his golems in the room. The golems parted to make way for him, before converging on Cyclops. Five more had grown during the tail end of Ao Jun’s speech, and now there were eleven naked golems to deal with. Ao Jun was making his way up the stairs. Logan heard the cellar door opening, followed by a click indicating that it had closed after Ao Jun. 

The golems were entirely focused on Cyclops. Logan didn’t know their specific intentions, but it definitely wasn’t anything good. Acting on instinct rather than any kind of plan, he launched himself at the group, barreling head first into them. He landed at an awkward angle, pinning two of the golems underneath him. His leap had loosened the ropes around his ankles a little, but not enough. The claws came out again, and though Logan couldn’t see behind him, he felt the adamantium sink into soft flesh. He hacked with what little mobility the manacles afforded him, and his efforts were rewarded by two rending cries. _Good_ , Logan thought viciously. _Maybe that took care of two golems. Nine to go_.

Cyclops, meanwhile, had managed to loosen the bonds around his wrists. His upper body was still bound, but like Logan, he was working on instinct. He head butted the golem in front of him, his chair swaying forwards with the action but not tipping over. The motion, however, brought him into contact with one of Wolverine’s claws, which could’ve ended rather badly for him. But as Ao Jun had said, sometimes sheer dumb luck was all it took. Instead of slicing Cyclops to ribbons, the adamantium blade nicked enough of the ropes binding Cyclops to the chair so that Scott was able to tug the rest free. He quickly bent down to work on the ropes binding his legs, but he was just as quickly pulled back upright by tugging hands. 

“Wolverine!” he called. “Where are you?” 

“On the floor,” Logan grunted. 

“What’s the structural integrity of this place?” 

“Do it,” Logan replied, instinctively understanding what Cyclops was really asking. “The building ain’t gonna come down on top of us.”

Scott trusted Logan’s assessment and tore the blindfold off with one hand. He remembered the layout of the room as Logan had described it and tried to keep his head as still as possible, even as the golems grabbed hold of him. Judging by the direction of Logan’s voice, he knew that the other man was on the floor somewhere in front of him, near him. It was Logan’s impetuousness that had created a much-needed distraction. He could only hope that Ao Jun had left the premises by now, and that their underground scuffle hadn’t drawn unwanted attention. 

Scott lifted his head slightly, higher than his regular line of sight. He didn’t plan to open his eyes completely. An unfettered force beam really would bring the whole building down on top of them. Logan would survive that, but he wouldn’t be so lucky. He just needed to get these damn golems off of them, and somehow free Wolverine. At least, free him more than he already was. The fact that Logan wasn’t shredding these golems to bits meant that Ao Jun had effectively restrained him somehow.

The concussive force of his beam sent the golems in front of him crashing into the cellar stairs and into the wall beyond. He didn’t know how many he’d hit, but the arms trying to grab him from the front were gone. There was still a pair trying to choke him from behind. Scott flung his chair backwards, hitting the golem behind him. The chair tipped over and Scott landed on his right side. Instantly, he was working at the ropes binding his ankles, fingers expertly recognizing the knots even though he was essentially blind. He could sense Logan in front of him. 

“How are we doing, Logan?” he asked. 

“Hurry up, Slim!” the other man barked. 

Scott freed himself just as Logan shouted, “On your left!” 

Scott instinctively lashed out with his left leg, kicking the chair hard in that direction. He heard the crash as it hit another golem, followed by the thud of the body falling to he ground. He crawled in the direction of Wolverine’s voice, reaching Logan quickly. Logan had also knocked his chair to the side, trapping another struggling golem.

Scott freed Logan’s legs first since those knots were the same ones used on him. Then he removed the bonds on Logan’s upper body. The other man lunged out of the chair almost before Scott had freed him. Scott stayed crouched on the ground, honing his hearing on the sounds of the fight and doing his best to visualize the layout of the cellar in his head. He hadn’t lost his sense of orientation, yet. When he felt a body on the ground shifting beside him, he turned and punched the prone figure hard. Twice. He heard the slashing sounds of Wolverine’s blades slicing through flesh and eventually the screams from the golems stopped. 

“I think that’s it,” Wolverine said, approaching him. 

Scott got to his feet. “Is there anybody else in the building?” he asked. 

There was a beat before Logan answered, his hyper senses scanning the area. “Nah, it’s just us,” he said. Scott could imagine the accompanying shake of Logan’s head. 

“Let me see those handcuffs,” Scott said. 

“Planning to blast a hole through them?” Logan joked. 

“I meant ‘see’ in a figurative sense,” Scott retorted, but he was grinning. 

Logan turned around and held still for the inspection. “Cuffs are adamantium,” he said aloud, as though Summers hadn’t figured that out on his own. 

“Didn’t stop you from taking out every golem in this room,” Scott pointed out. 

“Only had to deal with five,” Logan replied, a little off-handedly. “That blast of yours took care of four of ‘em. Also took care of the stairs,” he added. “We ain’t goin’ out that way.”

“And have you figured out how we’re getting out?” Scott asked. “Since you’re the one who can see?” 

“I was gonna ask you to blast that child-sized window into a man-sized window,” Logan suggested. 

“Not bad,” Scott said, even though he’d been thinking the exact same thing. “Don’t suppose there are any clothes laying about?”

This time it was Logan’s turn to sigh. “I’ll steal something when we get outta here,” he told the other man. He paused, before adding in a sly tone, “You’re lookin’ good, Summers. Emma’s right about that vow of celibacy. It’s a waste.” 

“Can it, Wolverine,” Scott said, but there was no heat behind his words. He moved past Logan, hands outstretched. “Do you see the blindfold?” 

Logan scanned the floor. “Three paces to your left,” he told Scott. 

Scott followed his instructions. Logan watched as the other man crouched and felt around for the strip of cloth. When his fingers closed on it, he shook out the dust and then tied the blindfold around his eyes again. Logan understood. Without the visor or the ruby quartz glasses to keep Cyclops’s power in check, it was safer and easier this way. 

Scott stood up again. “I’m going to need your help targeting the window,” he said. 

“Right this way, boss,” Logan answered.

* * *

Getting back to X-Corporation’s headquarters had been an adventure, the kind that made Logan think the universe enjoyed constantly playing cosmic jokes on him. Cyclops blasted them an exit, but a blind man and a manacled man climbing out of said exit was no mean feat. Then they were faced with the biting cold air of a Hong Kong night. It turned out that Ao Jun had brought them into an exclusive Hong Kong neighborhood – Victoria Peak. That explained why no cops had come calling. There was nobody around to hear the underground tussle in an isolated mansion on the Peak.

In the end, they’d broken into the mansion again to steal some clothes. The place was abandoned, the furniture covered with white drapes like some summerhouse that the general rarely visited. They would’ve stolen one of the luxury cars too, except that Logan couldn’t drive with his hands tied behind him and Scott was blind. So, their back up plan was a call to Domino. Luckily, the phones still worked. 

“What are you doing in one of Ao Jun’s houses?” Domino had asked, immediately recognizing the address. (She’d been shadowing Ao Jun for some time.) 

“It’s a long story,” Wolverine had replied, tiredly. “Come pick us up and bring a spare visor for Cyclops, will ya?” 

Domino wasn’t just an expert assassin; she was also a damn good thief, which meant that she had lock picking skills. Logan never found the key to his adamantium cuffs, but Domino was able to pick the lock to free him. By the time they returned to X-Corp, Domino side-eying Logan the whole drive while Cyclops sat silently in the back seat, it was almost 4am. They parted ways in the penthouse, with Logan silently following Scott down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Logan expected the night to end there, but Scott surprised him when he stopped Logan outside his door. 

“Hey,” Scott said, a hand on Logan’s arm. “Back at the karaoke bar, before Ao Jun kidnapped us, you were going to tell me something.” 

Logan started, surprised that Summers had remembered that. Logan hadn’t forgotten, but he was starting to believe that Ao Jun’s kidnapping had, in its own way, been a blessing in disguise. It had spared him from having that heart-to-heart with Cyclops, but apparently, Cyclops had other ideas. Logan recognized the determined air about the other man and knew that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this, not when he felt the heat of Scott’s hand on his arm like a brand. 

“What were you going to say?” Scott pressed. 

“Nothin’ important,” Logan hedged. 

“I disagree,” Scott said, with a shake of his head. “The drinks and the karaoke – that was just to soften me up. You were building to something. You wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble if it wasn’t important.” 

Logan both hated and admired how accurately Scott could read him, how spot-on his analysis of the situation was. That keen observation to detail was one of the reasons Cyclops was a master strategist in the field. He glanced up and down the darkened hallway. It made him uneasy to speak out in the open like this, even though it was plain that everyone else was asleep. He could hear the deep even breathing of Hank and Emma in the other rooms. Neena was still awake in another part of the HQ, but thankfully she wasn’t a telepath. As if understanding his unease, Scott opened the door to his room and motioned for Logan to step inside. 

Logan did, feeling as though he were sealing his fate by entering Scott’s room. 

“What did you want to tell me?” Scott said again, when his door was securely shut behind them. 

Logan exhaled loudly. “Listen, Slim,” he began. “I know talkin’ ain’t our specialty, but some things need to be said.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. Yes, he’d wanted to get Scott alone to talk to him, but it’s not like he’d prepared a speech. “You’ve been through a lot,” he started again. “A helluva lot, the kind of shit that most people wouldn’t ever be able ta recover from. And I get why yer pushin’ people away – the Professor, Jeannie – why yer throwin’ yerself into work and missions even more than usual. Me? I’d be living in the bottom of a bottle if Apocalypse got a hold of me like that.” 

Scott had grown very still as Logan had spoken. Unfortunately for Logan, unless they were in a combat situation, he couldn’t read his Fearless Leader as effortlessly as the other man was able to read him. He thought the stillness was a bad sign – like the fight or flight syndrome about to kick in – but he couldn’t smell any fear or anxiety coming from Cyclops. Just that preternatural stillness. Logan persevered. 

“I get that,” he insisted. “I do. And everybody’s walkin’ on eggshells around you, while you pretend like everythin’s just business as usual. But it ain’t Cyke. It can’t be. Not after that.” 

Logan exhaled again. He didn’t know where the hell he was going with this. Just ramblin’. Aimlessly. Hoping that Cyke might throw him a lifeline. But Cyclops was as silent as he was still. 

“Look,” Logan finally said, a bit of exasperation creeping into his voice. “I’m not really sure what I’m tryin’ ta say here. Just that…you don’t have to go through whatever yer goin’ through alone. It’s okay ta ask for help. I’m here. Whatever ya need from me, Cyke. I’m here.” 

Logan sucked in a breath. There was still no reaction from Summers, but he’d said what he’d hoped he’d be able to say. It had to be enough. He tapped down on the feeling of disappointment that washed over him when Scott turned away. What had he been expecting? Really?

“What I need,” Scott finally said, “is to take a shower. You want to join me?” 

Logan froze. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right. “What?” he said, a little stupidly. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Scott said, turning around and enunciating his words carefully. “Do you want to join me?” 

Logan fixed the other man with a hard stare. This felt like the universe playing another cosmic joke on him. “Listen, Cyke,” he said at last. “If I get in that shower with you, that vow you made is gonna be a moot point.” 

“Whatever I need, Logan,” Scott repeated. “Wasn’t that your offer?” 

Before Logan could say anything else, Scott was headed for the bathroom, stripping as he went. 

_Well, shit._

* * *

Logan was sated. He felt loose-limbed and relaxed, the kind of relaxed that only came from really good sex. Sex with Summers definitely qualified as _really good sex_. He felt a pang of guilt that he was the reason that Scott had cheated on Jeannie. He didn’t want to cause any trouble between them. He’d speak to Red as soon as they got back, before Summers did anything stupid and self-sacrificial.

Despite the pang of guilt, Logan couldn’t bring himself to regret what they’d done. He’d fulfilled a long-held fantasy, and he was under no illusion that this element would become a regular part of their relationship. (Well, maybe just a _little_. A guy could always hope, right?) Besides, Summers had needed that. Logan could now confirm for Domino that Scott Summers _did not_ have a king-sized bug all the way up his duodenum. But he did have a tight ass. A _really nice_ tight ass, and a really nice cock.

The man in question was lightly dozing beside Logan, looking just as loose-limbed and relaxed as Logan felt. When they’d gotten out of the shower, Summers had simply said, “I sleep on the left.” It was a tacit invitation that Logan had had no problem accepting. He’d blown Scott one more time in bed, crawling over his body and taking the other man in his mouth before Scott could object. (All Scott did was rest his hand in Logan’s hair, fingers gently massaging Logan’s scalp. That had produced a pleased purr out of Logan that he’d deny later on.) Logan wanted to remember what Scott tasted like, to feel the heaviness of that cock on his tongue. (He might not get another chance, right?) And after Scott came, Logan gave him a thorough tongue bath so the other man wouldn’t have to get up and shower again (because that seemed _exactly_ like the sort of thing Summers would do). And that’s where they were now, with Summers dozing loose-limbed and relaxed beside him. 

“How much time we got?” Logan asked, breaking the peaceful silence of the room. 

“A little under two hours,” Scott murmured.

Logan nodded automatically, even though Summers wasn’t looking at him. What he really wanted was a cigar, but of course, there wasn’t one to be had in Scott’s room. Not that Scott would ever stand for Logan smoking in bed, either. Logan grinned at the thought. He thought Summers had drifted off for good, but Scott surprised him by speaking again. 

“I guess you won the bet.” 

“What?” 

Logan was completely alert now. 

“Your bet with Emma.” 

Logan pushed himself up, leaning on his left arm as he looked down at Scott. “How do you know about that?” he barked. 

Scott gave him a bland smile. “You do realize that the balcony of this room connects to the balcony next door?” 

“But you were in the lab,” Logan pointed out. “Talking with Hank.” 

“I _was_ ,” Scott conceded. “But I came back in time to get the gist of what was going on.”

Logan looked away. _Fuck_. Now Summers would think everything had been a ploy just to get him in bed…

“Hey,” Scott said, reaching out and grasping Logan by the arm again. Logan hadn’t realized until tonight what a calming effect that action had on him. “It’s okay, Logan. I’m not offended. I think other people might even be flattered by that kind of attention.” 

“But not you,” Logan said, stubbornly.

“But not me,” Scott conceded with a faint smile. He tugged Logan towards him, and Logan grudgingly accepted so that he was lying in Scott’s embrace. This close, his senses were enveloped by the scent of Summers, and Scott smelled so good to him. 

“I know you have good intentions, Wolverine,” Scott told him. “Tonight wasn’t just some elaborate ruse to get me in the sack. And I appreciate the effort.” 

Logan felt the tension drain from his body, and he relaxed more comfortably into Scott’s embrace. 

“And if I had to roll the dice on you or Emma,” Scott said. “I’d bet on you every time.”

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel. No offense is intended; no profit is being made.


End file.
